God Wants You There
by VexingFanatasy
Summary: Arthur Kirkland wanted to die. Arthur Kirkland had the rug ripped right from under him. Arthur Kirkland is not allowed to die. Rated T for mentions of suicide. Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to their respective owners.


There was a time I wished for death, but that did not come quickly, for years past by in a whirlwind of misery and glory. Agonizing for a world above, a world that I longed for, something that a commoner like me could never tread on.

The wind whips past- a sigh- a longing sensation went with it. The death I wished for was simply taken away, pulled out from underneath my feet, a rug, and stairs where beneath it. The tumble hurt but there I found my reason to live.

"Alfred?" my call was simple, a smile pulled at my lips as he scurried into the room, happy that food was on the table. He was such a bundle of energy, one that kept the light in my eyes. "Here, it's fish and chips" He didn't even complain about my foreign food anymore, which was quite a relief.

The afternoon was quite, simple, and I adored days like this. They made me feel like the past didn't happen, like it was just a dream, a simple gust of wind. I couldn't help but smile, looking at the young Alfred playing in the dirt. He'd surely need a bath later, but that was later, and this was now. Now was the time Alfred and I spent time in the sun, while the sun lasted. I saw heavy, dark clouds in the distance, and knowing how the weather was in England, I heaved myself out of the chair. "Come Alfred, rain will come soon." I heard a moan, and him get up out of the dirt a bit unwillingly.

I reached out for the child's hand, grasping it firmly when our fingers intertwined. "Why does it always rain?" Alfred asked me, and all I could do was chuckle. His curiosity reminded me of myself as a young child.

"God is angry," I replied, looking up once more at the clouds that rumbled with the rain that would surely last for days. I sighed, my flowers wouldn't last like this.

"Why is God angry?" Child like curiosity, hazel eyes twinkling like stairs.

"Well, whenever someone tries to die before their time _He_ gets angry, sending in a storm to show them _His_ rage. _He_ won't let his rage end until they repent and live their life how it was intended to be."

I hoped that this storm wouldn't last as long at the weathermen say it will. This type of weather usually depresses me. I didn't leave England, as much as this weather drags on me. Constant reminders, constant wind, constant thoughts. I never wanted to be on death's door again, at least not too soon.

-Time Skip-

Alfred grew big and tall as the years past. His strength astounded many people who witnessed it, and many, mostly fellow Americans, had envied the power the youngster had. He always had a smile on, always searching to take down the bad guys. He was full of adventure. Something I've always lacked.

I aged as Alfred grew. My hair was grey, eyes losing the spark of life I once had as a child. Only Alfred still had twinkling eyes. I became weak, barely able to stand by myself. A frown always appeared whenever someone else was in the room with me. We were opposites, and that is what bothered me the most. I was the constant in my sons life, but we couldn't be more different.

"I'm off to America!" Alfred said as he barged in, voice as loud as ever. He was smiling, and I could see the hero in Alfred, the boy, now man, who saved my life.

"Than go, you twat. Stop interrupting my tea time." I looked back down at my book, ignoring the other, silently telling Alfred that conversation was over. God had his own plans for him though, and I must let them unfold.

"But I leave in like, an hour."

"Then sit quietly and have some tea." I barked.

"You never change." to which I had no comment.

Conversation halted until I finished my tea and Alfred ate all of the scones. It was another peaceful day, and the sun was out. Just like that one day.

"Remember when I told you that story about the storms? How God got angry when you gave up too soon?" I simply put my cup down, not looking up.

"Yeah, I was convinced it was true, until I realized it was just a story." I saw the shrug out of the corner of my eye, and smelled the wind that came off of him.

"Remember that story until the day you die."

"I will."

It saddened me that he had to leave, but the wind took him, too. He watched the back of his boy, walking into the typhoon of life, one that will engulf him, taking him away forever.

The night wore on, and rain didn't patter on the roof like it usually did. For now the country I have considered my cage for years was content. Sleep came after I got used to the non-existent sound of rain, but before I nodded off I could have sworn I felt the wind wrap me up in a cold blanket, making my body shiver.

"Arthur Kirkland, have you come to realize why you have lived?" The voice boomed, yet it was soft, like leaves falling in an autumn breeze.

"Yes, I fully understand why the storm didn't take me." My own wasn't shaky, but simply normal, as if I was talking to an old friend.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

I saw a flash of white. "Welcome to Heaven," God said, "this is where you belong,"

There was strong wind, but it caressed me like a mother's hand. I looked down, saw a white tunic, heard the beating of, surely, my wings.

God wanted me there.


End file.
